For the first time in Charlie’s heart, he experienced an indescribable tension.


    This tension wasn’t rooted in fear, but rather a fear of the unknown giants looming ahead.


    The mere presence of the deceased individual hadpletely upended his worldview.


    He struggled toprehend just how vast this organization truly was.


    In an instant, he noticed the man’s expression had slumped; he didn’t appear to be entirely loyal to the organization. Charlie inquired, “Based on what you’ve said, it seems you have significant criticisms of this organization and the British Lord?”<h3 style="background-color:DodgerBlue">


    “Criticism?” The man let out a bitterugh, “I wish I could annihte everyone in this organization to avenge my father, my grandfather, and my ancestors from the past nine generations!”


    As he spoke, a bitter smile crossed his face again: “But Ick the power… We have been bound by the organization since our youth. They granted us superhuman abilities, but that power is a ticking time bomb within us. Every seven days, we must take a drug to suppress that power; otherwise, we risk exploding and dying. This prevents us from escaping, as we dare not defy them, knowing that our lives—and the lives of our loved ones—are tightly controlled by the organization.”


    Charlie raised an eyebrow and asked, “You already have children?”


    “Yes,” the man replied, a rare tenderness flickering across his features. “In our culture, a dead man marries at twenty, choosing a woman from the descendants of dead men as required to ensure reproduction. My wife is also a daughter of a dead man, and she has given me two sons; the elder is thirteen, and the younger is ten.”


    Charlie probed further, “So who will raise your sons?”


    The man exined, “In their early years, my wife raises them, while older dead soldiers provide training. Once they reach sixteen, they are groomed to be the next generation of dead soldiers and begin carrying out missions for the organization. If I pass away, they could remain and mentor the younger recruits.”


    Charlie asked, “Have you ever considered resisting?”<fnbd32> ?? ??? ???? ?? ???? ???? ???????s, ????s? ??s?? f?i?n?d?n?o?v?e?l?</fnbd32>


    “Of course,” the man replied. “Each generation of dead men dreams of rebellion, but it’s futile. If we leave the organization, our lives would onlyst seven days. There have been individuals who believed they could fight the power within them, but those who attempted it are all dead.”


    He added, “The organization enforces strict rules; if one person defects, the entire family faces consequences. If I attempted to escape, it’s not just my life that would be at risk for those seven days—my wife and children would be killed too. We are like the ves controlled by white people in the past, entirely powerless to resist.”


    Charlie, intrigued, asked, “You’re aware of the history of very and white oppression? Have you studied this?”


    “Yes,” the man nodded. “We had extensive education on these topics when we were young, so we possess a certain cultural understanding.”


    Charlie then inquired, “Where do you usually live? Which country?”


    “I’m not certain…” The man shook his head. “As far as I know, we have been living in an underground base since my grandfather’s time. In this underground city, every time a mission is scheduled, the organization creates a mission list and administers drugs to those selected. After the injections, we lose all awareness, and when we regain consciousness, we find ourselves at the mission location.”


    After a brief pause, he continued, “This time, after receiving the drug, we woke up in New York.”


    Charlie frowned and asked, “So how did you execute the mission? Who assigned it to you? Who guided you to the stadium?”


    The man replied instinctively, “It’s the guide.”<h3 ss="has-text-align-center wp-block-heading" id="chapter-list"><strong></strong>